


A Midsummer’s Night Death

by leveldevil



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Blood, Drama, M/M, Mild Gore, Post-Canon, Tragic Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:59:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leveldevil/pseuds/leveldevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death came to Vincent Valentine through his window. Post DoC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Midsummer’s Night Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sichelblume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sichelblume/gifts).



> This was meant to be only a very short piece, but it decided to turn into a full-fledged PWP. Inspired by and dedicated to Sichelblume a.k.a. Ria, the wonderful Chaos to my Vincent. This also serves as my first contribution to the FFVII fandom.

Death came to Vincent Valentine through his window.

It was a summer night, ungodly hot and humid; the gunman couldn’t help but sleep with his window open in hopes of attracting a small, cooler breeze that could soothe his sleep and provide him with some decent rest. He had never been one for warm climates, not even when young. He had always preferred the cold winters and the amicable falls.

It was only thanks to his enhanced senses that he noticed the ruffling of wings and opened his eyes, his crimson gaze sweeping the room in search of the origin of that sound. It was both strange and eerily familiar, but it took him visual confirmation under the moonlight that invaded his room for his brain to actually register who was there.

“Chaos…”

“Hello, Vincent.”

Such a friendly exchange between them once seemed impossible to the former Turk – but they had years to adapt to each other. While Vincent never wished to be subject to the horrors Hojo’s science could create, it had been only thanks to the WEAPON that he was able to survive and tell his tale. Chaos, on the other hand, never liked the restraint imposed by a human body or the forced control exercised by the protomateria, but it was that form that allowed him to battle Omega and finally rejoin the lifestream.

The departure of Chaos left a strange void within Vincent – he had been living for so long with another soul sharing his body and thoughts that the silence was deafening. Learning to live with himself again took time, as well as coming to terms with his own mortality. The lack of the WEAPON within meant he had started to age again, albeit at a much slower rate still. His wounds healed not quite so fast, the strain on his muscles began to be noticed and the first silvery strands could be found amidst the midnight hair.

But the empty place inside him taught Vincent how to look at the world with a different set of eyes – his crimson gaze now perceived Gaia in ways he was never able to do before. As if he could understand its cries and sorrow just like the people of the Cosmo Canyon, but was unable to respond or help. He could just feel something approaching, and maybe this something was the time for Gaia to rest.

What Vincent never realized was that just as Chaos left traces within him, the same happened with the WEAPON. The winged demon had his personality somehow shaped by the ex-Turk’s, having lived with him for so long and with access to the darkest corners of his mind. He knew of Vincent’s every struggle, every loving memory. He had grown to be an admirer of Lucrecia’s work, he respected Cloud’s strength, and he bowed to the willpower of his former host. The man had, after all, fought to be in control of himself – and won most of the time.

Vincent had finally accepted what he could not change and Chaos would only submit to whoever was able to overpower him.

The WEAPON had assumed a curious form – the one of his previous host. Vincent only knew he was not looking into a mirror because he seemed younger, with demonic wings and eyes made of molten gold which shone even in the absolute dark. His own hands were now transformed into claws and a set of horns grew out of his forehead, rising from the middle of long, dark hair.

“It’s time, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The planet is dying.” Chaos voice was just like he remembered in his thoughts, and hearing it again was almost dreamlike. He had felt something for the past weeks, a sense of urgency, of dread; he had no way of knowing what it was, but the frequent natural disasters and the way nature was behaving were obvious signs that he could no longer ignore with his acquired perspective.

“So am I to be taken shortly?”

“Yes.”

Vincent actually smiled. He had come to expect this, somehow. The sweet release from a tormented life, one he never ended himself because he wasn’t able to – and then because he no longer wanted to when he had a few people he could still help and attribute some meaning to his existence. Deep inside, he always thought his end would come at Chaos’ hands rather than at gunpoint or the end of a knife held by an enemy. It seemed fitting in a universe which appeared to be rather capricious when Vincent’s destiny was at stake.

“I always thought it would come to this, one day.” Vincent moved in his bed, sitting up and resting against the bed frame. He was dressed in a long, silken shirt which was also black as the sky outside, and which covered his scarred arms out of habit. Apart from his underwear, there was nothing else to cover him on that warm night. 

Meanwhile, Chaos had simulated his body, but none of the scars were there – an immaculate version of his torso was visible, and the remaining of his own figure was modestly covered by black, form-fitting pants. The choice of attire was one the gunman approved, but didn’t entirely understand for a creature who would soon commit mass murder in global scale.

“I shared similar feelings,” Chaos said, and finally moved from his place in front of the window to come sit on the bed with Vincent. His wings were folded behind his back, almost unnoticeable in the darkness that enveloped them if not for the assistance provided by the moonlight. “You have to understand something: once I start reaping souls, Omega will have no choice but to rise. I’ll have to be quick then, if all the souls are to departure from this planet.”

“So when will you be coming back?”

“I won’t. I’m not leaving, Vincent. This is not a chance for you to say goodbye to your friends,” Chaos said with a calm voice, his claws crossing over his legs and making almost the picture of a polite human, if not for all the beastly signs, “This is me coming to you before anyone else because you deserve a decent farewell from a life that treated you so miserably.”

That shocked the ex-Turk – he never said goodbye to all his friends, not really. Despite the ever growing dread he felt, he always assumed there would be a next day – only there wasn’t, not now. He had few friends, some of them very old now, some of them already dead, and now he would only see them again as part of the lifestream. 

But there was some sort of consolation in Chaos’ words – he would not get the chance to meet his friends again, but he was to be blessed in death as he had never been in life. The world would die screaming, in agony and pain, terrified of their ending – but not Vincent Valentine. He was to be the sole exception to the nightmarish reality that was about to become true.

“You understand my purpose. You know what I was made for. But I will grant you the most merciful death because a lesser human would not have endured so many years as you did.” Chaos then advanced, his movements slow and deliberate – he leaned to the side so he could kneel on the bed, using his claws and knees to approach his first victim in a slow crawling motion, coming to almost straddle Vincent and initiate a brief staring contest between gold and crimson.

“I am not afraid of death.”

“You, Vincent Valentine, are the only man who can truthfully claim that,” and with a mischievous smirk on those familiar features, Chaos leaned in for a kiss, touching Vincent’s lips with his twins and surprising the ex-Turk with the kindness in that gesture. It was slow, gentle and almost innocent, as if begging to be dominated.

And soon the man embraced the creature, awkwardly at first because of the wings – but then they were gone, as if they never existed. The back of Vincent’s mind vaguely processed that if a WEAPON could choose his form, it was also likely that he could also reshape it to his own will; but the warmth of that kiss was so enticing that all coherent thought left him, leaving only the delicious source of entertainment that was their sinful contact.

Because surely that had to be sinful – to so unabashedly welcome the sweet embrace of death and to take such pleasure from it was certainly ungodly. The kiss, which began slow, had progressed into a much more heated dance for domination, where tongues battled for control. Vincent then realized Chaos had small fangs, which nibbled at his lips and carefully broke the skin there, adding the metallic taste of blood to everything.

The man was the first one to gasp for air – and Chaos was merely smiling fondly at his former host, golden eyes burning even hotter than before. A clawed hand came to collect a drop of blood from his lip, using it to mark a crimson trail downwards to his neck and shoulder, quickly ripping the fabric of Vincent’s pajamas to expose the pale and yet scarred skin below.

A warm and moist tongue followed the little path on his body, capturing every last drop of the precious liquid. The ex-Turk moaned then, unable to contain himself and feeling even hotter under the placid moonlight, his hands roaming the entire back of his former personal demon and craving short nails there, holding him close, cherishing the contact.

“A-ah!”

The surprised exclamation left Vincent’s lips when Chaos bit him – hard, forcefully and deliciously so, one knee expertly brushing against the raven-haired man’s member. The WEAPON started to suck on the open wound, relishing in the feeling of warm blood flooding into his mouth and enjoying it while the preternatural healing didn’t help close the bite. His claws raked along Vincent’s torso, creating light red streaks there and paving their way to his navel, obviously intent on removing his last piece of clothing.

The gunman reacted then – his own hands tried to free the replica of his own younger body of the pants, moaning and gasping from the ministrations on his neck and barely able to focus when one of the claws succeeded in exposing him completely, playing with his firm member and adding all kinds of delicious shivers. But he persisted and was rewarded, Chaos himself moving in order to relieve his body of the offending item and leaving Vincent’s neck alone for the precise amount of time required to be finally naked and joined to his former host in heavenly skin to skin friction.

“Why… Did you choose my face?”

“Because I could think of no better visage to serve as the last image for so many people,” Chaos said with a small smile, his lips shining where a few droplets of blood remained. The wicked grin was gone when he moved down, leaving kisses and ginger bites along his former host’s body, tasting him. Every moan or sigh elicited from Vincent seemed to make the WEAPON redouble his efforts, his claws now expertly stroking the man with an ease that was not to be expected from such distorted fingers.

“I merely thought that if I was to die, I’d like to see you before closing my eyes forever.” The whispers were soft against the ex-Turk skin, and by now he knew where the demon was headed. The hot trail of saliva reached his navel and kept going, just until his own length had the pleasure of welcoming these moist caresses.

Vincent’s hands were no longer on Chaos’ back – his fingers buried themselves in the long hair, pulling and tugging at it softly whenever his body arched. For more than once his hands brushed against the horns and the feeling was… Exotic, to say the least. He moved one hand up, playing with one horn and mimicking with his fingers what Chaos’ lips now did to his member.

The WEAPON seemed to like it – he murmured against the shaft his mouth had long enveloped, signaling his approval. The ministrations carried on until Vincent felt like he was at the edge, his gasps and moans now so frequent that Chaos obviously intended for him to finish, since he never dared stop. 

And then he came – it was a blinding, intense pleasure like no one he had ever felt. He was only vaguely aware of his screams, of the wanton and abandoned tone of his voice… And he didn’t care. He convulsed violently on the bed, hands grasping for anything and everything he could and only realizing he had held Chaos fiercely down until he had been entirely spent.

“Chaos…”

“That was quite the experience,” he said with a smile, moving slowly from where he had been commanded to stay but was only too happy to oblige. The demon had his wings back now, which unfurled and came to envelop the duo in complete darkness while they kissed once more, a gesture which made the ex-Turk acutely aware of his own taste and of Chaos’ seemingly desperate need for his own ecstasy. 

“Have you ever…”

“I have no need for this. But I have all the memories and knowledge, and I simply wanted to.” Ever so slowly, the wings started to recoil, folding behind the WEAPON’s back once more. The moonlight now allowed Vincent to fully admire the intensity of golden stare directed to him – he thought he could see fire burning there, so fierce and hot the twin gems shone in the room. Maybe it was from anticipation of what was to come, if the way Chaos’ rubbed against his leg was any indication.

“This should hurt.” The warning was given in a low voice, but not without a certain amount of mercy imbued. His right claw then suddenly became a perfect human hand, all five fingers soft and round around the edges and proper to prepare him – and Vincent couldn’t tear his eyes away when the digits were offered to him for a good coat of saliva, watching as the WEAPON so effortlessly guided the lubricated fingers to his own entrance.

“My life has always been painful,” Vincent said with a small grimace due to the sudden intrusion, but forcing his body to relax; the post-climax helped loose the tension of his muscles and his enhanced body adapted swiftly to the new circumstances, “So why should my death be any different?”

Chaos chuckled, obviously pleased with the comment. He said nothing back, however, clearly focused in adding another digit and then finally a third before replacing them all with his own turgid member. He was true to his word – it hurt. He wasn’t so gentle or even kind, but devoted to the act and aware of the fact that Vincent was the only man who could actually withstand that pain… Or perhaps even needed it.

A throaty groan from Chaos was joined by a loud moan from Vincent – and suddenly the claw was back, ripping at the bed sheets when he needed support. The bodies adjusted and the demon started thrusting, building up a pleasurable rhythm and going quicker as his own need increased. The ex-Turk started to touch himself again, shamelessly – and the right claw returned, wrapping itself around the man’s fingers and stroking him as well.

“Vincent…” the whisper made Vincent open his eyes – and he had to concede that the demon had a point. His features were completely distorted by pleasure, making his own face a mirror for sin, so delightfully surrendered to that act that the man actually thought himself to be beautiful. A beautiful death indeed.

“I hope… We will meet again…”

“Oh, but we will, my dear Vincent,” Chaos said, picking up his pace and now moving so violently against Vincent that the encounter of their slick bodies made the sweetest noises, drowned only by the ex-Turk’s screams whenever his most precious spot was hit. Chaos’ voice was distant, almost like the first time he heard it in his head… Almost like a dream…

“I will always make sure to follow you wherever you go.”

And then Vincent came again, his own body tightening around Chaos’ and triggering the demon’s own release. And for a while, they both rode the pleasure which seemed to crash upon them like the waves of a delightful ocean – until the WEAPON’s right claw reached for Vincent’s chest and ripped it apart, diving his sharp fingers inside and removing his heart in one swift, precise strike, almost as if his ribcage didn’t even exist.

Chaos paused then, fully spent inside Vincent’s dead body – his golden eyes observed the organ in his claw which still dared to beat for a few seconds once removed from his original home. He then put it aside, gently laying it to the bed and observing his former host: the ex-Turk was a mess, with the white evidence of his second climax mixed with the fresh red from the blood spilled from his chest.

On his face, however, a blissful smile remained, his crimson eyes half-lidded in the most desirable way: the perfect picture of the sweetest death. Chaos crawled over Vincent again, his tongue darting out to lick and then capture his lips, pressing his mouth against another one still warm and soft from the newly harvested life.

“Always.”

**THE END**


End file.
